Unexpected Encounters
by NotSoSirius92
Summary: Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy hate each other. But fate had other plans in mind... Winner of Beyond The Books "Restricted Section Comp" for best Erotica


**Part 1. A Mighty Fine Derriere**

Fate was, arguably, the most heinous bitch to ever exist.

He sat in the bloody meeting, watching her bloody dictate, and wondered why in the bloody hell the administrators of this godforsaken school even _thought_ this would be a _remotely_ good idea.

She was uptight, pretentious, arrogant - even more so than him - and could never admit to any wrongdoing. Her Gryffindor Golden Girl routine had irritated him for seven years now, and he was sure that wouldn't change anytime soon.

She was probably a prude. That was definitely a probability. She'd probably never even kissed a bloke. She probably needed a good shag. Hell, _he _needed a good shag. He hadn't been laid since he last heard Parkinson had slept with that McLaggen prick at the end of last term. Draco had no desire for his dick to fall off, and he was sure McLaggen stuck his in anything with a pulse with no measures to ensure his own safety. Plus, he fucked muggles too. Not that Draco disliked muggles as much as his family did, but Draco knew they had diseases he could catch that the magical community had no cure for. That was good enough for him.

Of course, it's not like he _wouldn't _fuck a muggle.

He had actually lost his virginity to one during his fourth year when he'd gotten into that spat with his parents about being the proper pureblood heir. He'd left the house, and he and his friends had gone into the streets of muggle London, into a district where women were more than willing to indulge a few teenagers with heavy pockets. Of course, nobody knew that though. Carmen had taught him everything he needed to know about pleasing a woman.

What had his point been? Oh, yes, the bane of his existence.

It wasn't as though she was completely unfortunate looking, either, not that he would ever admit that to his friends. She could definitely use some frizz control, and her uniforms were always proper length and swallowed her, so he had no idea what type of curvature she had. In fact, her robes typically covered her from neck to knees. But she had nice eyes, and he supposed her smile was okay too, not that she ever smiled at _him. _

"Malfoy!"

His head snapped to where she was glaring at him, and he realized that she had been trying to get his attention.

"Sorry," he drawled, "but your words were filled with useless drivel that nearly put me to sleep."

The Slytherin prefects snickered, whilst the Gryffindors glared. The 'puffs and 'claws simply stayed quiet, knowing full well the legendary fights these two in particular were known to have.

As much as Draco didn't actually know her, he knew her mannerisms well enough to recognize that she was gearing up to fight, and though Draco normally anticipated and invited these spars, tonight all he wanted was sleep and maybe to find a witch to bury into.

"Look, it's a Friday night, we've heard the same speech over and over from previous Head Students, can we just go?" He glanced at her, and though her glare didn't lessen, he recognized her acquiescence, and he waved the prefects out of the hall, telling them to expect a schedule tomorrow night.

They walked on opposite sides of the corridor back to the Heads Common Room they'd be sharing for the remainder of the year. It was a testament to their shared hatred that they didn't just walk _together_ towards their shared destination. Draco groaned - he did not want to think about that right now.

Her incessant need to be right would surely dictate the tone of their common room as well, Draco thought miserably.

Ascending the stairs, he stated the password to the portrait of Morgana La Fey, and she swung forward to reveal a cozy common room decorated in their combined house colors. He thought it looked rather tacky, but he glanced at the Head Girl and her face was alight with joy. She was rather pretty when she smiled like that. It made her more appealing somehow.

He stood silent while she luxuriated in the dream he knew she'd sought to attain since their first year and smirked. Well, at least one of them was happy to be here.

As though he'd projected his thoughts to her, she suddenly turned and fixed him with a pointed stare.

"Right," she said sensibly, "I don't like you, and you don't like me. But we're going to share this common room for the rest of the year. Stay out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours. I'll have friends over occasionally, and I expect you to make yourself scarce. I will do the same should you have company. I'll give you a heads up whenever this occurs. Otherwise, I hope we don't have to talk to each other more than is strictly necessary."

He could easily have agreed to those terms, because they were actually quite fair, but when had he ever made things easy on her?

"I'll do as I please," he sneered in response, and her eyes blazed. "I refuse to take orders from the likes of an uppity Mud-"

Her fist into his nose felt just as crunchy as it had the first time.

"Let's get one thing clear, _Malfoy,_" she stated, not bothering to hide her smirk at the sight of blood trickling down his face. She shrugged out of her outer robes, revealing her figure to him for the first time in seven years. "If you dare to use that slur against me again, I'll show you how adept I am at castrating charms."

It was then he noticed her wand aimed at his groin, and he was sure his dick shriveled up and ran to his backside.

"I am not lesser than you. In fact, I've outdone you consistently since first year. It stands to reason that I would be _your _superior, but I don't need to insult pretty little boys to make myself feel better." She began ascending the stairs that were marked Head Girl.

"It would be advisable to stay out of my way."

She was up the stairs before he could form a retort, and he glared after her and pulled out a handkerchief to catch the blood that was fast dripping on the carpet. He did have one last fleeting thought of her before he exited the corridor to go find something, or someone, to do.

Because of his shit talking, fate had graced him with a new form of torture.

Hermione Granger had the most fantastic arse he'd ever seen.

* * *

**Part 2. Voyeur**

"Draco, when can we come see your suite? I doubt its as tasteless as your common area." Daphne Greengrass ran her fingertips along the lapels of his suit jacket, which was not unwelcome, but not necessarily wanted, either.

Blaise and Theo laughed, sensing his friends discomfort, and Draco shot them a withering glare before answering Daphne.

"It's definitely more classy, but at least the couches are comfortable," he shrugged, avoiding the question.

They'd been back at school for two weeks now, and between Head duties and studying for N.E. , Draco was feeling more cagey and on edge than he normally did. So, when Zabini had cornered him and asked if they could hang out in his common room over the weekend, Draco had readily agreed. He'd left a note on the message board for Granger, which was their preferred method of communication as it allowed them to avoid each other, and she'd told him as long as they were out by midnight she was fine with it. Even in writing she somehow managed to sound bitchy.

Bloody bint.

So there they were, Friday night in his common room, drinking firewhisky and trading stories. Theo had requested they play _Never Have I Ever, _a muggle game he'd learned to play when he spent the summer in the states, and all seemed to become a bit hazy from there.

"Never have I ever - had sex with two people at once!" Tracy Davis blushed a pretty shade of red as Draco, Blaise, Theo and Pansy all knocked their drinks back.

Daphne and Astoria gasped. "Really?" Daphne edged closer to him, "And how did this happen? Who did you guys do it with?"

There was a pause and the Slytherins all felt their trademark masks fall into place.

"Oh my god!" Astoria said, covering her mouth as her eyes widened. "You all did it with _each other!_"

Pansy eyed him, giving an imperceptible nod before squaring her shoulders, knocking the rest of her shot back and smirking at the other women present.

"Slytherins take care of their own," she said saucily and they all laughed freely, because it wasn't something they were able to do often.

At one point Blaise had removed his shirt and Pansy lazily began running her nails in circles across his chest. Draco had a fleeting thought to warn his friend about the witch's more amorous activities, but he figured his friend was well aware of the fact and just didn't care.

_Suit yourself. _

His friends left after another bottle of firewhisky had been passed around, promising him they'd see him the following day for lunch, and Draco leaned his head back on the couch, enjoying the solitude. He hadn't had a moment's peace in what felt like a lifetime.

He was on the outs with his parents. When he'd refused to be a marked Death Eater, his father had gone apoplectic, and his mother had threatened to disown him. Draco had countered with the fact that he was the only heir to The Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, and bid her good luck in continuing their line. He'd only gone home when necessary for summer this past year, and whatever communication he had with his parents was stilted at best.

Was it wrong of him to just want something different? All he saw when he looked into his future was death, destruction, and desolation. Being prejudiced had become exhausting. Being pureblood had become a chore. Sure, he wanted to make his family proud, but at what cost? His soul? Draco didn't want to give any one that much power over him.

He was so caught up in his musings that he jumped slightly when he felt hands run down his chest suddenly. He opened his eyes and stared at her, his face passive, and made no move to get up from the sofa.

"Didn't take the hint that the party was over, eh, Daphne?"

She smiled coyly at him. "I thought the party was just beginning, Draco."

She began unfastening the buttons on his shirt, and he allowed her to slide the garment from his shoulders, tossing it lightly onto the cushion next to him. Straddling his waist, she attempted to kiss him, but he turned his cheek to the side so she caught the corner of his mouth instead.

"No kissing, then? I should have known better than to assume you'd be willing for a snog."

He gave her a smirk. "I'm planning on kissing you somewhere else, Greengrass," and he stood and turned her around so it was she who was sitting on the couch.

He kissed up her bare thighs - apparently she'd forgone the usual stockings he'd noticed her shapely legs in earlier in the school day. His fingers skimmed the edge of her skirt and he smirked as her breath hitched in anticipation. This was the part he liked, the in between moment where they had the opportunity to stop, to tell him they changed their mind, before giving him control and allowing him to do to them what he did best.

He loved women. All women.

He loved the petite birds like Daphne who made his dick look bigger as he slid in and out of them. He enjoyed the bigger witches who were soft and pliant under his touch and their thick thighs gripped him tightly. He liked bringing out the inner freak from a sweet girl's lips, and he definitely enjoyed fucking crazy birds who weren't shy about coming on his face or being ridden until their bodies couldn't take anymore. He loved them all.

Daphne's pussy was hidden from him beneath thin green knickers that he teased before slipping his finger under the waistband and sliding them down her legs. She was neatly trimmed, golden haired and glistening. He glanced up at her, watching her watch him with bated breath as he slowly ran his tongue along her seam, causing her head to fall back with a groan.

She smelled heavily of perfume and feminine hygiene products, and it caused him to wrinkle his nose as he stroked her leisurely.

He paused for a moment to grab a bottle of firewhisky and took a long pull, using the solution on his tongue to dissolve some of the scent, to make her more human. He wished more of the girls he fucked let themselves be natural. There was nothing better than a tangy musk that he could lose himself in for hours.

Daphne was making loud moans, telling him _right there _and _please don't stop_ and he focused more on her body to tune out the annoying simpering she was doing, mostly for his benefit even though he knew she felt good.

When her thighs started quaking around his shoulders, Draco inserted two fingers into her, stroking her in tandem with his tongue until she fell over the edge and _that _was what Draco had been waiting for.

Every girl was beautiful when they came.

He wiped his mouth off, and righted the skirt that had ridden up to her waist. She grinned lazily at Draco before plopping herself onto the floor and smirked at him.

"Would you like me to return the favor?"

He smiled at her before unbuckling his trousers and sitting down.

"Well, if you insist."

She pulled out his cock and sucked him in deeply, causing Draco to groan. It had been entirely too long. He watched her with vivid interest as she bobbed her head up and down, using his legs to brace herself as she went to take him in deeper.

He had to admit, she was good. And had no gag reflexes. Her moans around his cock were turning him on and she looked oh so pretty on her knees, looking like every teenage boy's wet dream.

A soft gasp interrupted his musings, and Daphne obviously didn't hear it because she simultaneously stroked his balls, causing him to hiss.

He lifted his head and met a set of startled brown eyes.

Granger was standing inside of the doorway, her eyes wide and mouth parted slightly. Draco couldn't help the moan that escaped his mouth, spurred on by both her voyeurism and Daphne's slurping.

But what turned him on more wasn't the fact that his dick was getting sucked and Daphne was making the most glorious sounds. It was the fact that Granger was looking at him with an expression he thought he knew, but couldn't _imagine _he would ever see on her face while she was looking at _him_. It was because he could see a vivid flush creep up her neck and rest on her defined cheekbones. She couldn't look away.

Neither could he, and he wondered if that blush covered her whole body the way her robes always did.

Daphne began stroking and sucking him at a rapid pace and Draco felt his balls tighten, and, keeping his eyes locked on Granger's, he felt himself come. A low groan escaped his mouth, and he twitched as the girl on her knees swallowed every bit he gave her.

Granger's chest was heaving, and she shook her head viciously, as if reminding herself that this was not something she was _supposed _to witness, her expression unreadable. She gave him one last indecipherable look before quietly ascending the staircase that led to her quarters.

Damn it.

That had been the hottest thing he'd ever been a part of.

Fate was a heinous bitch.

* * *

**3\. Wet Dreams**

The only time he'd seen her over the next few weeks had been in class.

He suspected she was avoiding him. Obviously.

Draco himself wasn't inclined to seek her out, but he couldn't get her face out of his head.

It started slowly.

He'd been having a wank, and all of a sudden, Granger's face was in his head and he was climaxing quicker than he'd done in a while! He was not proud to admit that he had pictured her lips wrapped around his cock when he'd shagged Daphne that night and any night following for the next month of school.

He'd taken to watching her in class because surprisingly, or not surprisingly, they had almost every subject together. She outright refused to patrol with him at night, and Draco began to wonder if it wasn't intrigue he'd seen on her face, but rather revulsion.

He berated himself internally every time his thoughts took this turn. It wasn't like she hadn't been disgusted with him prior to this. They'd certainly hated each other for years and had treated each other with nothing more than barely concealed - or not concealed - disdain.

Things were taking a turn for the worse within Hogwarts as well - tensions between the houses were at an all-time high; fights broke out constantly; and the Head Students were up to their noses in paperwork, doing whatever they could to hinder the more violent students in their respective groups. Draco still commanded the respect of his fellow Slytherins even though he'd refused to be marked; maybe because he was still the son of Voldemort's right hand man, or maybe because he was a Malfoy. But he coached his housemates to keep the violence to a minimum, or at the very least to not get caught.

He entered the common room wearily, carrying heaps of parchment and books in his bag that made his shoulders hunker, though the weight itself wasn't the reason he was so downtrodden.

He was juggling Head duties with school and with NEWTs approaching his workload was massive.

He casually discarded his jacket over the chair and stopped short.

Granger was laid across the couch.

He tiptoed around the back of the couch to look at her more fully.

She was sleeping, her chest rising and falling at an even pace, and he took a moment to appreciate the swell of her bust because, honestly? He'd never gotten a chance to blatantly ogle her before, and well, he was still a Slytherin. Moral or not, he was bred to exploit opportunities. She wasn't heavy-chested by any means, but she had a delicious curvature, as he'd witnessed all those weeks ago. Her waist was tiny, but her hips were full and lush beneath the pleated skirt, leading into toned and tanned legs that he imagined would look good wrapped around his waist. Her stocking clad feet were small and delicate.

Her face, though, was what drew him the most. Her lips were full, the bottom one puckering out slightly. Her lashes fluttered against her cheekbones. Her face was peaceful. It had a soft, vulnerable quality that he had never seen while she was conscious. Like sleep had washed away the stress of school and war and blood status. Combined with her small stature, she looked so fragile. Draco found this odd, maybe because while conscious she seemed larger than life, and strong, and bold. She seemed like an unstoppable force of nature.

Her hair was a mess, and the thought made him smirk because even in sleep her hair still had a life of its own.

He shook his head and chastised himself, knowing that she would be embarrassed to find him lording over her, ogling her like some pervert.

He was about to head to his room when her lips parted and a soft moan escaped them.

His brain short-circuited.

Surely, he had misheard her.

But she moaned again, louder this time and there was no mistaking the sound.

What stopped him even more were the slight circular movement her hips were making.

Oh, shit.

Granger was dreaming, and from the looks of it, the dream had become erotic.

Draco was rooted to the spot.

Her hips swiveled in tantalizing motions, circular and slow, her legs were clenched together and her hands made the slight journey from her sides to her pelvis.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She was vulnerable, unconscious, having a sex dream, and Draco couldn't stop watching her like a lecherous fiend.

"Mmmmm, Malfoy," Granger moaned again, and Draco's cock wept.

Her movements were more erratic now, a hand in the waistline of her skirt that had ridden up to show thick, muscular thighs. Her sighs were soft, but her breath was hitching and Draco knelt beside her, entranced by her movements and her voice and the heady aroma of her skin.

Wake up.

Please don't wake up.

But Merlin help him, he wanted to see her eyes as she fell apart in front of him. If he was the man in her dreams doing this to her, he wanted to see her. He wanted all of it.

Selfish. But he never admitted otherwise.

She was close now.

"Granger," he whispered as her hips snapped. Granger's eyes fluttered open as she let out a guttural moan that made Draco want nothing more than to rip her skirt up and have his way with her.

Her body spasmed a few times, and as her orgasm subsided she melted back into the couch, smiling at him sleepily for a few seconds before her eyes focused on him, realization dawning on her as she became fully aware of the circumstances she found herself in.

"Oh, my God," she cried, jumping up and throwing her outer robes on in a hurry. "You sick fuck!" She screeched, rounding on him with her wand drawn.

"Granger, I'm sorry!" He raised his hands in surrender, not shying away from her, but not cowering either.

"I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late to stop," he tried to reason with her.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

Granger apparently thought so too. "Oh, but you had time to kneel next to my face and wake me up? Fuck you, Malfoy," she seethed, her face red. Probably from the combination of embarrassment, fury and the lingering aftermath of her arousal, which he could still smell.

Merlin, someone fucking avada him now. He could embarrass her, tell her he knew who she was dreaming about. He could spill out all of the frustration he'd had about her over the last weeks, and beg her to let him finish what she'd started - unwittingly - the moment her chocolate gaze regarded him with more than hatred. He wanted to tell her every filthy thought he'd had about her, but he didn't.

"Granger, I did not mean to see it," he said, doing his best to keep the edge out of his voice. Granger would surely interpret it as condescension rather than desperation. "Honestly, I was about to wake you up," he smirked, "but then I thought it would be impolite to interrupt you before you finished."

A book narrowly missed his face.

Her face was still beet red, but she seemed to have gained control of her bearings. She picked up her bag and collected the books on the end table, including the one she'd thrown at his head less than a minute ago. She avoided his gaze, though he knew she could feel his gaze burning a hole into her arse as she strode away from him.

"Granger," he called out suddenly, and she paused at the foot of the stairs, the same look on her face from the night Daphne has sucked him off. She gazed at him, waiting for his response, and Draco couldn't think of anything witty to say, so he decided to be honest with her, for once.

"It was beautiful."

He exited the common room hastily, leaving her staring after him with widened eyes.

* * *

**4\. I Hope They Serve Firewhisky in Hell**

Living with Hermione Granger was turning out to be either an extreme exercise in self-control, or a merciless form of torture.

He couldn't get away from her. She was everywhere.

Draco cursed fate and her vicious sense of humor once again.

He honestly had given up on actively trying to stay away from her. Draco himself was not used to abstaining from things he wanted, let alone women he wanted to shag.

He knew that wanting Hermione Granger would inevitably fuck him, but he hoped it was at least enjoyable.

He was no longer under the impression that Granger was a prude. He had a sneaking suspicion that the stick up her arse had everything to do with her _not _getting laid, rather than having not ever _been _laid.

Hell, she masturbated in her sleep! He wanted to see her face when _he _made her come. Add in that she was so off-limits to him — Head Students, opposing houses, opposite (or so _she _thought) sides of the war — there were so many reasons he shouldn't pursue her.

But that's what made her so enticing to him.

He was in his own personal hell, he was sure of it. Nothing could dampen his growing desire for her. Not even bedding other witches.

He took Astoria Greengrass in an abandoned broom closet the night after he saw Granger fingering herself.

The night after he shagged a sixth year Hufflepuff named Miranda Goshawk.

He fucked Romilda Vane that same night.

Still, no matter how many girls he had one-offs with, as soon as Granger walked into the room his dick stood at attention!

_Fucking traitor_, he glared at his crotch.

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall's voice pierced his thoughts, "would you care to tell me why food is one of the Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Elemental Laws of Transfiguration?"

"Food cannot be created out of nothing. It can be multiplied, summoned, or enlarged, as the theorem of Gamps Laws reasonably infer that magic is continuously creating something out of nothing."

"And why do you think food is an exception?" Well, she wasn't glaring at him anymore, so he must be on the right path.

"I would assume it's because even magic has its limitations. Many foods contain complex nutrients, sugars, and starches that are unable to be replicated or replaced. Food has to be real for it to maintain its sustainability, though, I'm not sure if that is the sole reason," he added, and McGonagall's severe expression lessened slightly.

"Well reasoned, five points to Slytherin."

He hunkered back down into his seat and chanced a look in Granger's direction. She was conversing quietly with Potter and the Weasel, but as though she could feel him looking, she turned and her eyes met his.

He was mildly surprised to see the barest hint of approval, as though she would've answered much the same way. Who was he kidding? The witch was a walking encyclopedia, she would've presented the law in its entirety, the exceptions and probably added her own theorem to the clause. He was glad, however, that even though she denied her admiration of his physical characteristics she was at least willing to acknowledge his intellectual ones.

"Bro," Blaise nudged him, and the trance was broken. "Why are you and Granger eyeballing each other all of a sudden?"

Draco groaned quietly, and the desire to have another opinion outweighed his comfort. "There have been circumstances between Granger and I that have thoroughly fucked my life up, Blaise. I can't stop thinking about her," he whined softly.

Blaise chuckled.

"What happened?"

And so Draco told him all of it; the voyeurism on both of their parts, his conflicting feelings, the forbidden nature of it.

Once he was done, Blaise sat quietly for several long seconds, causing Draco to huff with irritation.

"She's fit," his friend mused, "and smart, probably smarter than some of the professors. Only slight against her is being a _Mudblood_," his friend finished sarcastically.

"Don't call her that," Draco snapped quietly, and Blaise rolled his eyes.

"I don't use that word, if you recall," Blaise said, "I was simply highlighting the entertaining notion that you've spent the last seven years insulting her for something she can't control, and now you're barely controlling yourself around her. It's ironic, is all. She's also a fantastic shag."

A chimed sounded, signalling the end of lessons for the day, and Draco snapped his head to his friend, who was smirking at him.

"Excuse me," Draco said, trying his very best to control his tone. "_You've _shagged Granger?"

Blaise shrugged, and they began walking towards the Great Hall for dinner.

"Well yeah, turns out she's quite agreeable if you don't constantly insult her. Last year we were partnered together for a Potions project and one thing led to another…" his friend smiled dreamily, and Draco squashed the urge to punch him in his stupid mouth.

"And?"

"Well, under all of those robes she's bloody fit, and very responsive," Blaise grinned lecherously. "I honestly wouldn't mind another go with her, but Granger wasn't one to take me seriously enough to commit to any long term shagging. She told me not to expect anything from her, being that she's best friends with the Chosen One... one of the only birds to never get clingy."

"I would have sworn she was a virgin, who would want to deal with her? She's a vicious harpy and walks around like she owns the damned place."

Blaise rolled his eyes, evidently deciding not to point out the hypocrisy of his friends words.

"I actually found her quite pleasant, as I assume most of the blokes she's shagged have."

"Wait - blokes _plural_?" Draco was astonished.

"Yeah, mate," Blaise laughed openly, and once again Draco had the urge to throttle him. "You're just now noticing she's a girl? The rest of us figured that out during fourth year. I think Weasley was her first, but I know for sure she's also shagged Roger Davies and Ernie MacMillan."

Irrational jealousy surged through him.

"Why has she shagged so many guys?" He sneered, "I wouldn't have pegged her for a slag."

Blaise punched his arm, "Stop that. Hypocritical wanker. You've fucked at least three times as many people as her. Also, grow up. I know it's offensive to your pureblood sensibilities, but those of us who don't live in the eighteenth century find casual sex with independent and sexually uninhibited women to be enjoyable."

"I have sex with sexually uninhibited women!" Draco yelled indignantly, and had the urge to bang his head on the table they sat down at as people glanced at him curiously.

He was still waiting on someone to Avada him.

Blaise shrugged, "Not like Granger. You've forgotten, we've shagged many of the same witches. Granger's not nearly as much of a pillow princess as the rest of them. You said so yourself that Greengrass was the only pureblood chick to have sucked you off."

Draco nodded as he glanced over at the Gryffindor table. With her more amorous activities coming to life, every movement she made became sexual. She was laughing with her fellow Gryffindorks, placing light touches on her friends. How had he never noticed she was so affectionate before?

She took a pull from her glass of pumpkin juice, licking her lips to catch the moisture there.

Draco actually did bang his head on the table this time, much to the amusement of his friend.

"If what you say is true, you just have to catch her at the right time," Blaise said, "Granger's a deviant, and if she wants you… it's only a matter of time."

Merlin, he fucking hoped so.

* * *

**5\. The Restricted Section**

The following weekend found him up past midnight, trying to finish multiple assignments, plus a personal project of his own.

He sighed, slumping backwards into his chair, and ran a lazy hand through his hair.

He had all of the properties of his potions assignment, except one, and damned if he could find what he needed in his Advanced Potions book.

His project was a little too dark for the likes of regular school curriculum, but Professor Snape valued excellence over the simpleminded notions of light and dark magic.

He was modifying amortentia, which was barely legal. If he succeeded, this potion could potentially be used to coerce Death Eaters into testifying against their peers and Voldemort. Amortentia lowered inhibitions and created an obsessive compulsion focused on the person administering it. If he could shift the ingredients around he would be able to lower their inhibitions to trust the person giving the potion, whilst simultaneously compelling them to give the administrator whatever they ask for; in this case, truth or evidence. With Veritaserum, a person could still lie if they were powerful enough, willful enough, or a strong occlumens. With this potion, the criminal wouldn't _want_ to lie.

If the Wizengamot didn't approve it, well, Draco was sure he could sell it on the black market.

He wasn't amoral by any means, but that didn't mean he was a saint.

Damn it. He'd left his copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ at the manor.

Luckily, being Head Boy had certain privileges, and he made his way out of the portrait hole towards the library.

Of course it was dark, save for a light or two from other 7th years pouring over dusty textbooks, looking at the ceiling in frustration on occasion.

Draco made his way over to a corner that not many students ventured to, and opened the door to where he knew he'd find the book he needed.

He drew his wand, casting a soft _lumos, _before meandering through the shelves, grabbing a few titles here and there that looked promising. Most he'd seen before, as the Malfoy family library was massive and probably more expansive than Hogwarts', but there were still a few books he'd not yet had the chance to peruse.

He took his collection to the center of the room, where he'd noticed a single light emanating from one of two tables.

He paused, and took a deep breath.

"Late night, Granger?"

She startled a bit, having been so focused on her own reading material, and her eyes widened slightly before a sneer formed on her face.

"What do you want, Malfoy? And what do you think you're doing here?"

"I'm one of the few students in this school that Snape has given express permission to be here, as I'm sure you already know," he snarked back to her because she was such a swot, and her immediate scorn was irritating him.

He was also very tired of the feelings he had for her.

She was literally one of the worst things to happen to him.

"Right," she said stiffly, "I'd forgotten. It's late, I should be going anyways."

She stood so hastily that her books fell from the table she'd managed to jostle, and hit the floor with a dull thud.

He bent to help her pick him up because he was a bloody tosser.

"I've been meaning to talk to you," he said slowly when she refused to look at him, though he kept handing her books. Merlin, who the fuck needed so many books?

"I've been busy."

"You've been avoiding me," he said matter of factly.

"I have not," she said shiftily.

"You have."

"Malfoy, it's not as though I've actively sought you out. Ever. Why would you think I'm avoiding you _now_? Please, it's late. I have a lot of work to do."

She hastily made to exit, and all he could think of was that he'd never have her alone like this again.

"Granger!" his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

Her wand to his jugular was mildly terrifying.

"Unhand me, Malfoy," she whispered, and the fact that she sounded just as fierce as if she'd been yelling went straight to his groin.

_Down, boy._

"Wait," was all he said, and something in her expression told him she would, at least for the moment, to give him one chance to say something profound enough to keep her there.

He was presented with another opportunity, another moment when she'd regarded him with something other than hatred. He saw the contemplation, the expectation in her face. An honest moment happening between them that he never anticipated and it made him nervous.

"I know that this doesn't make sense," he started, and tried not to focus on the way she worked her bottom lip with her teeth. "We don't like each other. You're annoying, and I'm an arsehole. We have hated each other since the first day of school. But honestly, Granger, I cannot say I hate you anymore. I know you feel this."

He took her hand, running his thumb over her fingers.

Hermione's face was impassive, but her eyes were as expressive as always. He could see the wheels in her mind turning rapidly.

"I can't be with someone who thinks I'm nothing more than a Mudblood."

She tried removing her hand from his, but he tightened his grip and jerked her towards himself. He winced as she collided with his chest and glared up at him.

"Don't call yourself that," he snarled quietly at her.

"Why? You've done nothing over the better part of a decade to show me that I'm worth more than the dirt on your shoes. What is your plan here, Draco? The one thing that I've always been able to depend on you for is to be honest in your hatred for me. You've never minced your words. Don't start now."

She was right.

She kept presenting him with these deafening moments that had the potential to be exponentially more than he'd been able to give her.

He wasn't good with pretty words and grand gestures. He honestly didn't think she would appreciate them, anyway. Not coming from him.

But he could show her. He could give her what she asked for and be authentic with her. Transparent.

"Honestly," he said, imposing himself over her small frame, causing her to subconsciously step back towards the bookcase behind her, "that's the first time you've said my name. All I can think about is making you scream it."

He swallowed her gasp as his mouth covered hers.

Her body responded immediately, her tongue met his and her hands were in his hair and they were both groaning -

She jerked back and slapped him across the face, hard enough to know she'd left a handprint.

"That's for being an arrogant arse, and for making me feel this way," she snarled.

He growled and picked her up by the hips, slamming her back onto the table, no regard for her back throbbing against the spines of the books she coveted.

Her legs automatically wrapped around his hips, and her hands were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt.

He ran his hands over her body and groaned heavily. All of his fantasies paled in comparison with the reality of having the real Hermione Granger rolling her hips under him.

He was not gentle with her.

Their mouths clashed together. Lips, tongues and teeth, battling for dominance, for someone to surrender. Neither did.

He ripped her shirt open, ignoring her protests at ruining the garment.

"You're a witch, use magic to fix it," he said pointedly, and ran his tongue along her breasts, wondering how in the world she tasted so divine.

Granger was gyrating her hips against his in that same tantalizing motion she had when she was dreaming of him. _Of him._

"When you were dreaming of me, did you imagine I'd take you here? In the library. Your most sacred place?" He chuckled as she moaned, "I had no idea you were such a dirty girl, Granger. Would you like me to make you scream so loud that everyone can hear you? I bet I could," he nipped her earlobe, and she panted heavily against his cheek.

"I had no idea you had such a filthy mouth, Malfoy," she whispered sensually. "I bet it'll be even filthier when I fuck it."

Merlin, save him.

He yanked her skirt up, quickly sliding his fingers under her knickers and his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.

She was bare, smooth, and very wet.

He teased her clit mercilessly before inserting two fingers and curling them slightly.

Granger's hips bucked into his hand and he smirked.

"Tell me what you want," Draco whispered, heady and delirious with arousal. The sight of her spread across the table in this part of the library was as poetic as it was beautiful.

"Tell me," he coaxed, "or all of this stops."

She glared at him.

"You look better when your mouth is otherwise occupied," she snapped, and arched a single eyebrow as she spread her legs wide.

He would not come in his pants. He would not come in his pants.

He grinned at her, "As you wish."

Vanishing her knickers, Draco watched her pussy clench around his fingers in fascination. She was bare, which was new to him. He found it sexy as fuck and maybe this was what Blaise meant when he said she was so forward thinking. He latched his mouth onto her clit and Granger's hips grinded into his face.

He should have known she'd be different. She exceeded expectations in everything she did, in everything she was.

Her taste was musky and lemony and completely fucking natural. She was a breath of fresh air and her skin was satin against his lips. Her thighs around his shoulders were strong and quaking, but it was her eyes that captivated him as he gazed at her from his place between them.

They were highlighted by the small desk light, and he didn't know how he'd ever thought of her eyes as merely brown. They were lit in a million different hues, melted chocolate with golden rays seeping between them down into her pupils what were looking at him with so much more than lust. There was plenty of that, of course. But there was awe, anticipation, admiration.

Acceptance.

When he felt like she was close to the edge he withdrew his fingers. She sat up immediately in protest and he shushed her.

"I want to be inside you when you come. Let there be no denying it's me to make you scream."

She snorted, though she was breathing hard and her eyes were blazing with lust, "A bit confident, Malfoy?"

"I haven't heard you complain yet, Granger," he retorted, and reveled in the fact that she had no comeback.

Granger: 99; Draco: 1

He picked her up then, grabbing two handfuls of her round arse and pressed her up against the book shelf behind her.

She gripped the shelves on either side or her, bracing herself, and he began circling her clit again.

Granger let her head fall back with a groan, and Draco loved how responsive she was to his ministrations.

Her breathing came quick gasps, and he was delighted to see that flush spread throughout her body.

He stopped his movements, taking a moment to fumble one-handed with his belt buckle, letting his trousers fall to his knees.

He lined his cock up to her entrance.

Kissing her softly, Draco gave her one last chance to back out. If she didn't, this would not be a one time thing. This would last, and he didn't know if either one of them were ready to deal with that right now. "This is it Granger. If we do this, there's no going back."

He looked at her face — beautiful and flushed, and finally, he saw what he always wanted: surrender.

"I want you," she breathed, her eyes dilated. "Merlin knows why, but I do. It's okay, Draco."

He began teasing her entrance, adding the slightest bit of pressure. He worked her clit over until she was a writhing mess in his arms.

"Please," she whispered, or whimpered, and he knew he had her. "I'm begging you."

He ran his nose along the line of her neck. Delectable.

"If you were begging, you'd be on your knees."

He slammed up into her, and they both moaned loudly.

Granger gave as good as she got. Every snap of his hips was met with a sensual rolling of hers. Her mouth left a trail of fire scorching his mouth, his neck, anything she could reach as he pounded into her against the bookcase. He would be a walking bruise tomorrow. Her nails ran words down his back that he hoped would be memorialized in his skin. Lust, desire, passion.

He'd never known passion like this, never felt like his lungs were being scorched by the heat of their lovemaking, as angry as it was.

A sense of inevitability, rightness — ran through him and the realization that this _was _their relationship. It always had been fire. They were always fighting for dominance. He should have known that he wasn't really fucking Granger, so much as they were fucking each other.

She would have refused to be anything less than his equal, though truly, she was superior. She always had been.

Her face scrunched up and her thighs clenched around him and Draco sped up his movements erratically, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer.

"Come on, Hermione," he coaxed, "let me have it."

Her walls clenched around him in a vice like grip and he was floored at how wrong he'd been before.

Granger was actually very fortunate looking - she was fucking beautiful.

Her pussy was clenching and throbbing around him and he was soon following her over the edge, groaning and spilling inside of her, his legs shaking with holding their combined weight.

He sat her down gently, whispering simple cleaning charms to divest them of the sweat and sex.

He didn't know what to say. He felt that as soon as the silence was broken, everything would be ruined forever.

He finally faced her, and she was looking at his arm curiously.

"You're not a Death Eater," as though this revelation was new.

"I never have been," he said slowly.

"Oh," she righted her skirt, "Well, that's a good thing. It would be impossible to continue this otherwise."

He blinked at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Not that you need the ego boost, but you're a bloody good shag, and I have an insatiable appetite. Of course," her face fell slightly, and she bit that infuriating fucking lip, "if you're up to it that is…"

"You're mad," he stated, and then smirked at her, "but I suppose you're less annoying when you're wrapped around my cock."

She laughed, and Draco's heart warmed. He was officially turning into a girl. Bloody hell.

"You're less annoying when your head is between my legs, so I guess we're finally on the same page."

She slung her bag over her shoulder, before striding over to him and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"See you around, Malfoy."

Not much had changed. She was annoying, and always had to have the last word, but at least now she was going to be fucking him on a regular basis.

He grinned at the thought. Fucking fate.

"See you around, Granger."

Fin


End file.
